Wanderer
by BE-Mistress
Summary: ONESHOT RikGip: ..greeting her at the door with his proudly handsome, shirtless self.. how she ached to just tackle him and spill all her harboured emotions out on him.. and he knew exactly what he did to her..


A/N: Fairly new to the FFX game world, so I apologize if I get anything wrong. Feel free to correct me.

This story is devoid of any proper grammatical technicalities. I'm sorry. It's just how I feel. I've had such an awful day today and I feel like crap and the only way I know how to deal with it is to write it out. Too stressed and depressed to write my other fics right now, and I feel guilty for not doing so. And I'm really sorry if this story just turns out to be one huge hissy fit because I'm PMSing right now and top that with the crap I had today and I'm in a perfect mood for a hissy fit. Sigh.

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**Wanderer  
**_1FRICKENgirl_

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The thought hadn't even crossed her mind.

All day, all evening, everything had told her otherwise. He'd given her a smile when she first entered – a cocky one, but a smile nonetheless, actually greeting her at the door with his proudly handsome, shirtless self, knowing exactly what it did to her. Dark black pants that loosely fitted around his waist, shyly revealing the tip of his boxers underneath the heavy grey belt. And he'd casually wiped his greasy hands on them, the other one being gloved, and put his arm around her shoulders, squeezing it slightly with a playful smirk as he pulled her inside the temple.

Here the light fixtures showered her with love, warming her bare arms from the long, lonely hike, and warming him too, because he was sweating, and sticky, and his muscular chest glistened with it all. And he knew, dammit he knew, and he could tell it in her wandering eyes, what it did to her.

So she stopped wandering over him, turning her attention instead to getting the replacement carburetor for her airship engine she'd been so desperately waiting for since she'd ordered it from him last month. And when she reminded him, he raised his head with a nervous "Ahhh…" and an undecided "Yeah…" and a sideways glance that told her something had gone wrong. But he confessed right away, for there was no point hiding it, that he'd taken the newly shipped, already paid carburetor, and used it for one of the Faction's own.

And she grew incredibly upset, yelling at him for a good couple of minutes before he told her he'd get her a new one – for free… later, of course. But she still felt angered, telling him she had no method of transportation back to New Home, and that she had depended on getting her airship fixed today. So he invited her to stay at the temple until tomorrow, when his team from Zanarkand would surely return back with a bunch of good parts for her airship. And that they'd work on it together then, and he'd find her a carburetor – a good one – and she'd be able to go back home. He promised.

And suddenly she felt a lot better. Maybe it was because her eyes were wandering again, this time unable to remove their fixated stare away from his chiseled abdomen, heaving in and out with every breath he took. And then she felt her mind begin to wander even as she tried to catch it before it went too far. But it did, and soon enough, she was already imagining the scent of his room, the comfort of his bed, and the feel of his skilled lips on hers. And he knew, he could tell by her silence, and so he teased her by gently brushing against her mouth with his thumb and telling her to make herself comfortable. Because he knew what it did to her.

And so she decided to keep herself busy. Going around doing odd-jobs for the workers there, trying her best to wedge a smile out of their tired faces every now and then. It wasn't like she had anything special planned that day, and she never minded helping a fellow Al Bhed. But more so because she couldn't stand standing still.

Every time she caught sight of his half-naked self walking past her, huge machine gun under his arm or strapping on a large screwdriver to his tool belt, how she ached to just tackle him and spill all her harboured emotions out on him. Because he did strange things to her, and her body always twisted funny when they ever got around to that sensitive subject. Her legs crossed over one another shyly and her head stretching to the side in nervous agony as her fingers twiddled anxiously behind her back feeling his curious eye on her. But she knew he wasn't _that_ curious. Whether his laugh, his touch, his teasing, his chuckle, his flirting… he knew exactly what it did to her, and the only curiosity in him was _how much_ it did to her.

Because she often felt as if he were waiting for her. Waiting for her to give him a sign that told him it was alright. That she'd respond, that she'd agree. And that she was ready to admit that she'd been infatuated with him for so long. Because he knew she liked him. And he knew she wanted him. And he knew these things for a while now, and saw them accurately proven each time he squeezed her shoulders or whispered naughty things in her ear for jokes; he knew what it did to her. And he just wondered why she'd never give in to it.

And her answer to herself each time was because. Because she didn't want to get hurt. Because she didn't want to be just another fling. Because she didn't want their relationship to be all out physical – which she knew would surely happen if they were to do so. And it was because of all those things that she knew she could never give in. And so her eyes often resorted to wandering.

But today was different. Today the air felt new. And the lights shined and hugged and embraced her with a love like no other could ever understand. Seeping through her skin, burning away her doubts in the hellish luminescent light of Djose. And it cradled her, and kissed her and told her today was different. And today was lucky. And today was the day she should confess to the world what and how much she loved what he did to her. It promised.

And she always fell for promises. Her heart never understanding through time and time again that promises were simply words strung together and decorated with elaboration to gleam and glisten like grease and sweat on a shirtless, chiseled chest. And his chest was always her weak point.

And so the thought hadn't even crossed her mind. Her mind was off wandering in the first place – she'd never caught it. And so there were no thoughts in her mind. Her doubts having been burnt to ashes and only hope and love bursting inside of her like a tightly held package of fireworks ready to blow. And so she hadn't expected it. Hadn't expected that a simple kiss could swallow up all the life inside of her and spit out her warmth as tiny, sharp, crystallized icicles.

Because the kiss wasn't hers. It was another's. And that one-eyed bastard was giving it to that another. And she was returning it back as his hands did the wandering all over that another. And they fell on the comfort of his bed. Playing out the dream she had held so dear inside of her. Smelling the husky scent of his room, sinking into the comfort of his bed, mouth on mouth hungry and passionate and playing out her dream that she had held for so dear.

And unsure of how to feel, and unsure of how to cry without him seeing, she decided to screw it all, and to hell with it all, and fuck this and fuck that and that she'd never let her mind betray her like that again. And so she roared at the top of her lungs, grabbing a random machine sculpture and slamming it to the ground as it shattered into a million estranged pieces like her heart. And he shot up from the bed and stared at her in surprise, his mouth slightly parted like it was when it held his "Ahhh…" and his "Yeah…" But that was beside the point, and she couldn't bear to look at him anymore. And so she ran.

Down the stairs and babbling like an idiot she ran and ran past the workers she had tried so hard to put a smile on only for them to see her so distraught and hurt and helpless and hopeless because the light had promised her so much.

But she didn't make it to the doors. Feeling his hand grabbing her and pulling her to face him, and his words jumbled like a silly jigsaw puzzle in her brain because she didn't want to hear him. She didn't want to hear what he had to say. Actions she knew, spoke louder than words. And his words were just empty promises on a shirtless, muscular backdrop.

And so she cried.

And she didn't understand why she did so. It wasn't like she'd loved him. It wasn't like they were lovers. It was just today. And today was so full of expectations and unexpectations all at once and they popped out of the ground out of nowhere and she just wanted her carburetor now. Just her carburetor. And he had used it. He had taken it and used it without her knowing. And she decided that was the reason why she cried.

And he wiped away her tears trying to pull her away from the watchful eyes of the workers, and calming her sobs. But she wouldn't stop, and she wouldn't look at him. Because she felt humiliated, and worthless, and pathetically pitiful underneath his watch. Embarrassed and utter lack of dignity because of the crying, and the kissing, and the shattered heart that had all started with wandering. Just wandering. It never hurt to look, right?

And he was confused because he didn't understand. Because it was just a simple kiss, one that he'd given to many others than that another. And he'd give it time and time again because _she_ never wanted it. He'd waited for _her_, but she never gave him any clear response that she wanted it. And now that she'd caught him giving it to someone else, a mess of broken machine was on his bedroom floor.

But it was just a kiss.

And he didn't know what it did to her.

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_Thanks for reading. **Please Review.**_


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